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SecretsYour clandestine wanderlust frightens me, darling.
The Cliche Villain and the Hopeless HeroThe Cliché Villain and the Hopeless HeroA story that dramatically depicts that moment when you just can’t count on men to get the job done… The helpless maiden, her red hair arrayed around her in the dirt, tied down to the cold iron of the train tracks… It was so cliché! That was all she could think as she lay there, gagged and trying to wriggle free of the rope that bound her horizontally over the vertical tracks that stretched for miles in either direction on flat, dusty land. The villain – for there was always a villain, of course – stood nearby, cackling his evil, monstrous laugh that usually would signal the closeness his own impending demise. These stories really write themselves, don’t they? she can’t help but think. The villain’s
The Bird Cage.Everything about usIs summed upIn aBirdCage.A very empty,Lonely,Fitfully pitiful,BirdCage.The drops of despondencyGlisten on the rusted,Nostalgic ironOf the horrifically beautifulMindless representationOf theBirdCage.You opened your mindAnd I,My heart.But for a momentWe mistook themFor oneAndTheSame.A broken key,Split right in the middleWhere it didn’t reallyMatterIf a key was brokenBecause the intricateLock-opening halfWas stillIntact.It is difficult,However,To holdWhatIsn'tThere.The hinges swingUnhinderedAlbeit they stillLet forth theirEerie raspFor a moment,Making youWonderWill theyKeepThe doorSuspended?The last thingYou noticed aboutMeThe cageWas theLoveIvyThat tangledAnd chokedThe iron that reflectedThe lightThat came seeping through the windowLike a shatter of ice.And when the frayed ropeThat precariouslyKeptUsThe cageDanglingThereBroke,So didMyHea